


A Long-Awaited Reunion

by breakdancingsigma (hetawholockvengerstuck)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Nobody likes the Sackville-Bagginses, Pre-Lord of The Rings, Reminiscing, Spoilers for Battle of Five Armies, Spoilers for the books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:05:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hetawholockvengerstuck/pseuds/breakdancingsigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Bilbo's one-hundred-and-eleventh birthday, and the last thing he's expecting is a visit from some old friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long-Awaited Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> I've done a bit of canon-mixing here, in that I've taken some bits from the movies (which I recently watched, and I'm not quite over the ending yet) and some from the books. That said, this is definitely not 100% canon-compliant.
> 
> There be spoilers ahead. Nothing you can't get from reading the wiki, but you have been warned.
> 
> Anyway, this came from a prompt on the Hobbit Kink Meme: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/1990.html?thread=1727942#t1727942

When Frodo returned with Gandalf to Bag-End, he was momentarily alarmed to see the door ajar. Of course he would be, when his uncle rarely ever had visitors and never neglected to shut the door. Gandalf only watched with interest as the young hobbit leapt from the cart, dashed through the gate, and came to a skidding halt in the entranceway.

"Uncle Bilbo?" he cried, hoping beyond hope that he would get an answer. "Uncle Bilbo, where are you!"

"In here, my boy!" came the answering cry from the parlor. Frodo followed the voice and once again came up short.

There were six strange men in the house. Not Men, of course, but not a one of them was a hobbit. Each of the dwarves--for they had to be dwarves--turned to stare at Frodo as he walked into the parlor. In the center of the room, looking happier than he'd been in years, was Bilbo.

"Here he is, my friends, here's my nephew! Frodo, come in and meet the company!"

There was a chorus of greetings from the dwarves assembled, and then Frodo was whisked into a frenzy of handshakes and bear hugs that was only halted when Gandalf knocked his head on the chandelier and told them all to give Frodo some space. For a moment, the attention shifted to Gandalf.

While Bilbo greeted his old friend, one of the dwarves sidled up to Frodo and offered him a bow. "Dori, at your service," he said. "Shall I get us a spot of tea? You must be quite overwhelmed."

"No tea, thank you," Frodo said. "Did you say your name was Dori?"

The dwarf nodded and repeated, "At your service, young Frodo." Then a seventh dwarf entered Bag-End, followed quickly by an eighth, and greetings started again. Frodo watched in awe as Bilbo moved like a younger man, bringing cakes and cheeses and meats out of the pantry for the guests until the dwarves relieved him of his efforts. Bilbo, usually so meticulous about his food stores, relinquished control and drew Frodo close.

"Oh, this is wonderful, Frodo, it really is. I've wanted you to meet them for so long!"

"These are really them, then, Uncle? These are the dwarves you traveled with to the Lonely Mountain?"

"Yes, well, most of them are. Gimli is Gloin's son, you see, and we're missing--" Bilbo stopped and began listing names under his breath, counting off. "Dwalin, where are Balin, Ori, and Oin?"

A heavily-tattooed dwarf replied, "I was going to ask you the same thing. They should have arrived from by now."

Gimli and Gloin shared a knowing look, and Gloin spoke up. "Aye, I didn't want to put a damper on the mood, but Gimli and I paid a visit to Khazad-dûm on the way here, and...well..."

Bilbo's arm slid from around Frodo's shoulders. "Don't tell me..."

Gloin shook his head. "We found this." He motioned to his son, and Gimli removed a thick book from his satchel and placed it on the dining room table. A puff of dust kicked up around it.

Dori's eyes widened. "But that's--"

"--Ori's journal, yes," Gandalf finished. Frodo could only watch, unsure of what all this meant. He looked to his uncle for answers, only to find the newfound energy washed from Bilbo's face.

"You are sure they are...all of them?"

Gloin nodded. "We barely made it out alive."

"So," Gandalf said, "the mines of Moria are no longer safe for dwarves or travelers."

A heavy, solemn silence fell over the assembled. Eventually, a dwarf in an oversized hat patted Bilbo on the back and said, "Alright, lads, let's remember we're here for a celebration! One hundred and eleven, eh, Bilbo?"

A small smile crept onto Bilbo's face. "I know, I can hardly believe it myself. It's been nearly sixty years since I last saw any of you!"

There was a round of cheers and pats on the back, and then Gloin called out, "Let me through, I want to meet the lad!" Immediately, Frodo was the center of attention again.

"Wait your turn, Gloin!" the dwarf with the hat yelled. He bowed, then grasped Frodo's hand in his. "Bofur, at your service. So wonderful to meet Bilbo's nephew!"

He was shoved out of the way by Dwalin, who also offered a bow and an "At your service." Then he stepped aside for Nori, who was bounced out of the way by Bombur's impressive stomach, who introduced Bifur, who finally moved out of the way for Gloin and his son.

Gimli took one look at Frodo's face and laughed. "I expect yer wonderin' how ye'll ever remember all these names, am I right?"

Frodo could only nod.

Gloin patted him on the back. "If yer anythin' like yer uncle, ye'll get it soon enough."

Within moments, a midday meal was laid out, and the dwarves were all gathered round and feasting. Bilbo sat at the head of the table, laughing at old jokes, catching up with his friends. Frodo felt rather left out, and was glad for Gimli's company--despite the age difference, they got on well, as the only two present who had not been on the quest for Erebor.

Midway through the meal, Dwalin suddenly stalked out of the room and returned holding a struggling hobbit by the scruff of his coat.

"I caught him scuttling about in the flower beds," Dwalin grumbled. Bilbo only laughed.

"Oh, that's just my gardener, Samwise Gamgee! He's perfectly harmless, I assure you--well, unless you're a weed, in which case you'd better watch out!" For some reason, this got a round of laughs from the dwarves.

Sam, once released, hurried over to Frodo and whispered, "Who are all these people?"

"These are the dwarves from Unce Bilbo's stories!" Frodo replied.

"Dwarves? What are dwarves doing in the Shire?" Sam looked about him as if he did not recognize the place, which perhaps he did not. Despite the crowding at the table, there seemed somehow to be more light in the room. Sam swallowed thickly. "Mister Bilbo's not going on another... _adventure_ , is he?"

Sam jumped as Bofur let out a hearty laugh. "What's wrong with adventures, lad?"

"N-n-nothing!" Sam squeaked. "Nothing at all!"

Now the other dwarves were laughing. "Oh, Bilbo," Nori said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, "he's just like you were when we met you!"

"No," Dori corrected, "Bilbo was much more assertive about his distaste. Tea, Master Samwise?"

"Master?" Sam looked like he was about to faint, and forgot to answer; Dori poured a cup of tea anyways.

"It's a sign of respect," Frodo whispered. Sam nodded and took a sip of tea, only to burn his mouth.

The dwarves had gone back to reminiscing:

"Aye, when we met ye, Bilbo, not a one of us knew what we were in fer!"

"Thorin wanted to leave without you, too! What a mistake that would have been!"

Bilbo's smile faltered at the mention of the leader of the dwarves, but only for a moment. Bombur lifted his mug of ale and said, "To Thorin!"

"To Thorin!" the rest of the company echoed, then tossed back their drinks. Sam nearly fainted at the noise.

When the eating was done and the plates cleared up, it was almost time for the party. As a group they left Bag-End and marched down to the fields, drawing looks from every hobbit they passed.

* * *

The night's festivities were grand, and the dwarves were the center of attention. Bombur's intricately-braided beard became a climbing rope for many a child, and Bofur led a rowdy song that a few of the braver hobbits tried to join in on. Mostly, the dwarves were given disapproving looks that they either did not see or did not acknowledge. Dori, of course, was welcomed with open arms by all but the most conservative of hobbits, but the other dwarves were given a wide berth. 

Then the dragon firework went off, and half the company of dwarves extracted weapons from their cloaks and tunics on instinct. It took much fussing from Bilbo to calm them down.

Gandalf emerged from behind a tent, dragging two young hobbits by the ears, and deposited them at the dwarves feet. "Here are the culprits! Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took."

Dwalin towered over the hobbits, growling low in this throat. Bifur shoved him aside and said something too fast to catch, but Bilbo thought he heard the words "Took," "yours," and "burglars."

"Pippin is a distant relation of mine," Bilbo replied, "and I daresay he would have made a good burglar--if he were a bit more sneaky, that is."

Pippin tilted his head to the side. "You aren't angry with us, Bilbo?" 

Merry looked desperately between Bilbo and Gandalf, silently pleading for mercy.

"On a night like this, who could be angry!" Bilbo laughed, and even Dwalin relaxed a bit.

Merry and Pippin scampered off somewhere with Nori and Bombur, and the other dwarves dispersed. Dwalin and Bofur hung back, watching after the young hobbits.

"Tell me, Dwalin," Bofur said, "do they remind you of anyone?"

Dwalin sighed. "Aye, they're just like Fili and Kili when they were young."

"That's what I was thinking," Bofur replied. They sat in silence for a bit; then Bofur raised his mug of ale and said, "To Fili and Kili."

"To Fili and Kili," Dwalin echoed. He drained the rest of his ale and went looking for more. 

* * *

Frodo enjoyed himself immensely, but he found himself looking for his uncle constantly. Bilbo had never seemed happier in his life, not even when he witnessed Lobelia Sackville-Baggins take a tumble face-first from a mule into a pile of dung.

Speaking of the Sackville-Bagginses...Bilbo was scampering between the tents in a way that could only mean one thing. Frodo hurried towards his uncle, ready to intervene, only to find he was too late.

That is not to say that the Sackville-Bagginses got there first. Not in the slightest! For there, standing in front of Bilbo like an irritable, hairy wall, were the dwarves: arms crossed, chins lifted, and a few daggers casually fingered.

"What business have ye with Master Bilbo?" Gloin asked gruffly.

"What business have _you_ standing between us and our kin, dwarves?" Lobelia snapped back with a scowl that had sent many a hobbit scrambling for cover.

Bombur widened his eyes comically. "Kin, eh? Bilbo, are these people any relation of yours?"

"Alas," Bilbo sighed, "let me introduce Otho and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins."

"Oh-ho!" Bofur crowed. "I remember you writing about them in your letters! Just as nasty as you described!"

Bifur said something that no one could understand.

Lobelia was seething with rage. "Look here, _dwarf_ \--"

"No, _you_ look here, _goblin!_ " Bofur replied, clearly enjoying himself. "Stop pestering Bilbo on his birthday! In fact, stop pestering him at all!"

"Or you'll have to go through us," Dwalin intoned, resting one hand on his battleaxe. Frodo, from his place behind a tent, thought he could actually hear Lobelia gulp. Without another word, the Sackville-Bagginses slunk off.

"Oh, dear," Bilbo said, "I'll never hear the end of it from them." It was then that he caught sight of Frodo and motioned to him. "Come here, boy, don't be shy!"

"That was amazing!" Frodo said to the dwarves, eyes shining. "I've never seen anyone go up against Lobelia and withstand her glare!"

Bofur laughed. "I've stared down much scarier and uglier things than that sorry excuse for a hobbit. Remember Alfred from Laketown, lads?"

The company of dwarves laughed and groaned. "Aye, that one was a piece o' work," Gloin said. "Whatever happened to that weasel?"

"Who cares?" Nori asked, and they all laughed again.

* * *

Later that night, when Bilbo took the Ring off in Bag-End, he was surprised to find seven people waiting for him in his home.

"Did you think we wouldn't notice you sneaking off?" Nori asked, a forced lightness in his tone.

"Rather rude to disappear at your own birthday party, isn't it?" Dori said, sitting on one of Bilbo's chairs by the fire.

"The lad is probably worryin' about ye," Gloin spoke up.

Bifur said something unintelligible.

Bilbo had to half-force his smile. "My dear friends, I didn't mean to alarm you--"

"We weren't alarmed, Bilbo," Bombur said. "Gandalf told us all about your little trick."

Bofur stepped forward. "We're more concerned with _why_ you used it. Forget your pocket handkerchief again?"

Bilbo relaxed, and his smile became genuine. "Alright, you've got me. I was going to leave on one last adventure tonight."

"Whatever for?" Dori asked.

"And to where?" Dwalin asked, speaking up for the first time since Bilbo had entered Bag-End. "It's not safe out there for a lone hobbit. A darkness has been growing ever since the fall of the line of Durin, perhaps even before that. We have Ori's journal to prove it."

Bilbo had never felt more wretched as he watched Dori look away and wipe at his eyes with one of Bilbo's handkerchiefs. How could he have been so selfish, to want to leave the Shire when his old friends had come such a long way to see him? When just today, they had learned of the death of three of their company? Oin, their healer, a brother and an uncle; Ori, the youngest surviving dwarf of the original thirteen, who had left only his journal to remember him by; and Balin, their rock, their confidant, the wise voice of reason who had made it through the Battle of the Five Armies despite his age. To have fallen at Moria, years after they had completed the quest, when it seemed as though all the suffering of the dwarves was nearly over...to lose them now, to the very enemy they had fought so many years ago...

Bilbo hadn't realized he was crying until Bombur wrapped him up in a great big bear hug. He protested weakly, even as he buried his face in the dwarf's shoulder: "No, I shouldn't be the one crying, go see to Dori..."

"You have every right to mourn them, Bilbo," Nori said, his voice a bit choked with unshed tears. "They were your friends, too. I know they'd be honored to know you remember them even now."

"They should have been here," Bilbo sobbed, "they should be here safe, everyone should have! Thorin, Fili, Kili..."

For a moment, Bombur just held Bilbo as he cried. Dwalin turned his back to the blatant display of emotion, choosing instead to peer out the window into the darkness.

"Compose yourself, lads. It appears we aren't the only ones to come after Bilbo."

Bombur released Bilbo just as Frodo came barreling in. "Uncle Bilbo, whatever is wrong? You've caused quite a commotion out there."

"It's nothing, nothing, my boy," Bilbo said, hastily wiping tears from his cheeks. "Just an old man's whims."

Frodo looked around at the dwarves, took in Dori's sniffling, Nori's closed eyes, the tearstains on Bombur's left shoulder. Dwalin watched the young hobbit carefully, unsure of how he would react.

"Shall I make us some tea, then?" Frodo asked. "And some cakes and jam, if it's okay with you, Uncle."

Bilbo waved his hand. "Yes, yes, that's a wonderful idea, Frodo."

"I'll help," Dori said, and despite Frodo's protests, followed him into the pantry.

Dwalin relaxed his shoulders. "He's a good lad, that one."

"Yes," Bilbo said, "yes, that he is."

By the time Gandalf arrived with Gimli, the dwarves of Thorin Oakenshield's company were splayed out or curled up in all manner of armchairs and floor space. Frodo remained awake, sitting by the fire and listening intently as Bifur rambled excitedly but quietly. Occasionally, the dwarf would hum snatches of a tune that Gandalf would always recognize, even years later, as the song that marked the beginning of the quest for Erebor.

Bilbo, asleep in a chair by the window, could not have heard clearly what Bifur said or sang. All the same, Gandalf thought he saw a lone tear roll down Bilbo's cheek, and come to rest in the corner of his smiling mouth.


End file.
